


You Always Said One Day I’d Touch The Sky

by Stozier_Rights



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alexis | Quackity Angst, Alexis | Quackity Deserves Better, Alexis | Quackity Needs a Hug, Alexis | Quackity-centric, Also tw/, Angst with a Happy Ending, Big q has a hard time yall, CHARACTERS not the CCS!, Duck Hybrid Alexis | Quackity, Hybrid Alexis | Quackity, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I will say it again and again, M/M, Multi, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Polyamory, RESPECT THE CCS, Self Harm (?), Tw/, Winged Alexis | Quackity, also not enough quackity angst here, if any of the ccs say their uncomfortable with this sort of thing it’ll be taken down immediately!, it’s kinda implied, just how I think quackity would’ve felt through schlatts death, karlnapity needs more content!, recovery from abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:00:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29078238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stozier_Rights/pseuds/Stozier_Rights
Summary: Quackity doesn't think he’ll ever love again, he had the one love of his life and that was all he got. But little dose he know, he has two more waiting with open arms.OrCheers rang through the room. Everyone was cheering, of course they were cheering, the goddamn wicked witch of the west was dead! Instead of cheering Quackity was sobbing, sobbing into the chest of the man he once loved. He was pulled away from the body by a pair of long arms, Karl Jacobs’s arms. He was then held by the boy, sushed as his back was rubbed gently by his hands in an attempt at comforting him.
Relationships: (past), Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt, Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap
Comments: 39
Kudos: 346





	1. Is Missing You The Right Thing To Do?

**Author's Note:**

> This is just chapter one, there’s probably gonna be ten - fifteen. 
> 
> In no way am I trying to romanticize the abuse in Quackity and Schlatts relationship portrayed! At any point that it talks about Q still loving and missing Schlatt that’s due to trauma and sorts, or it’s speaking of before he was abusive. 
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read and I do hope you enjoy! Love you babes! <333333

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just chapter one, there’s probably gonna be ten - fifteen.
> 
> In no way am I trying to romanticize the abuse in Quackity and Schlatts relationship portrayed! At any point that it talks about Q still loving and missing Schlatt that’s due to trauma and sorts, or it’s speaking of before he was abusive.
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read and I do hope you enjoy! Love you babes! <333333

Quackity knew it was the right thing to do. He knew deep down inside him that the Schlatt he had just shot with an arrow was not the Schlatt he’d fallen in love with. The man had lost it, the man was abusive and an alcoholic. Still as he crumpled over, losing a life Quackitys eyes filled to the brim with tears. He struggled to cough the words out he knew he had to now, before it was too late. Schlatt sucked in a sharp and wheezy breath as he clutched the new wound, effectively bringing Quackity back to the real world. 

“What the actual _hell_ Quackity!”

“Schlatt-“ 

“Help me before-“ 

“Schlatt it’s over.” 

“What?” 

“It’s over, I can’t do this anymore.” 

Quackity had tears running down his cheeks now, and was thanking god that Schlatt couldn’t stand right now. He didn’t know if he could run fast enough if the man wasn’t too hurt to move. He didn’t even want to think about what would happen if he could. Schlatt was drunk, like every day; and he got _mad_ when he was drunk. He didn’t know why he did this now, he should’ve waited for a sober day. ( _If there would be one ever again)_ Schlatt started yelling about how the old White House was to be torn down, and it got to him. This was the last left that he remembered of Wilbur, the real Wilbur. That was why Schlatt wanted rid of it, and why Quackity didn’t. Schlatt was walking up the stairs, his back turned so Q took the opportunity. He pulled out his bow, quickly aiming for the man's back and shooting.

Schlatt let out a pained laugh at Quackitys response, “over? Fucking over!” Q flinched back at his tone, hand still clutching his bow as Schlatt made a move to sit up. “Quackity, I never knew you could be this damn stupid.” Schlatts eyes were filled with hatred, and almost a sense of hurt. The words he spat at the boy were pure venom. 

“You can’t just leave. You're a coward!” 

“I can’t do this anymore.” Quackity repeated, cringing at the way his voice cracked. “You're just scared, I can see the way you're shaking. The way you’re crying. You're too weak for this power.” 

Quackity turned around, reaching for the door handle as one more set of words rang through his ears. “Your nothing without me Q, I made you and you know it.” He then swung the door open and just started running. He ran until he couldn’t, tears fogging his vision that he tried to soak up with his sleeve. He wasn’t sure how long or far he had run before he knocked into Tommy. 

“Woah woah big Q slow down, what are you running from?” He wielded a softer tone than he had with him ever since Q went to Schlatts side. His eyes held sympathy that he’d never seen in the boy outside of interacting with Tubbo. He couldn’t help but wonder why Tommy was being nice to him again. What changed his mind?

Quackity knew he was panting but tried his best to regain his composer, “nothing Toms I just, I want to join Pogtopia. Will you guys take me back?” 

A huge smile spread across Tommy’s face as he pulled the shorter man into a tight hug. “I thought you would never ask.” Quackity felt like crying again, but he didn’t. This was the moment he realized how much he missed the feeling of being hugged. 

“Thank you Tommy.” 

…

Quackity knew Schlatt wasn’t doing well, in the time they’d begun prepping for the war the man was only getting worse since Quackity betrayed him. Q couldn’t shake the urge to check on him, to make sure he was ok but he refrained. He never found the ability to confide in anyone about these feelings. In fact, no one but him even knew how bad he and Schlatts relationship had gotten. He always had hid the bruises pretty well when he did get them, and he knew how to keep himself composed. 

Even if he hadn’t there was never really anyone around who would’ve noticed these things. George, the man who was supposed to be his vice before Schlatt came into the equation, was never around. He was still in the cabinet but if he wasn’t sleeping he was with Dream. Then there was Tubbo, Schlatts right hand man. ( _Even though he was on Pogtopias side the entire time.)_ The thing was, Tubbo did care, so much. Almost too much. He tried being worried for Quackity the first time he saw a bruise on the man's wrist. In everyone’s eyes though, he was one of the bad guys. ( _He was one of the bad guys.)_ So the worry didn’t last long when Q brushed it off that he’d fallen on it. 

Tubbo was a sweet kid, but Quackity knew if he interfered it would end with him hurt as well. So he pushed him away, it was for the best. It still hurt Tubbo though, this caused some sort of resentment between the two. Still it kept Tubbo out of harm's way, _(out of Schlatts way)_ and that’s all that mattered. 

Now though, in the present day Quackity was holding himself back from seeing if Schlatt was ok. He had a harder time hiding how he felt now, not that anyone cared now more than they did back then. So he kept it all to himself. That was, until the day Schlatt died. Sure everyone knew they had been married, everyone assumed they’d done it for show though. No one knew how much the two had truly fallen for each other. _(Before all the alcohol and corruption that was.)_

No one saw the joy that spread across Schlatts entire face and filled his eyes when Quackity got on one knee. 

_No one saw cuts on Quackity from broken liquor bottles._

No one witnessed the way Quackity ran into Schlatts arms when they found out they’d won the election, or the way Schlatt spun him around in the air as they both giggled. 

_No one witnessed Quackity running up the stairs of the Whitehouse as fast as he could before locking himself in the bathroom._

No one paid attention when Schlatt would intertwine his fingers with Q’s as they walked through Manburg, or just stood at the podium. 

_No one paid attention to the limp in Quackitys step, or the black eyes._

No one heard the whispered ‘I love you (s)’, or the pet names. 

_No one heard the yelling and loud arguments coming from the Whitehouse._

No one cared about the gentle love held between the two, the relationship and love that was certainly there but no one saw. No one saw except for them, and they were ok with that. 

_No one cared about the stench of rum or whisky and tobacco that came off Schlatt everyday, or how all hope and love seemed to slowly drain out of Q’s eyes day by day._

That was all in the past though, even so as they all crowded around Schlatt in the caravan Quackity was filled with a familiar feeling of dread. This paired with confusion and a sense of nostalgia for the way they used to be. 

Schlatt was surrounded by everyone that once cared for him. He was swaying on his feet as he held a bottle of liquor in between his fingers, a cigarette held in the other hand. 

“What are you all doing here?” Schlatt downed the rest of the bottle and looked to WIlbur, “I only wanted Wilbur, my old friend Wilbur.” He slurred out, almost falling when Wilbur took a step forward towards him. “Are you drinking Schlatt? Youre fucking drinking!” Quackity raised his shield out of reflex at the sight in front of him. 

“Oh this is great Will,” he muttered, coming up with another bottle and popping the lid off with his thumb. “What a reunion.” 

“God… He hasn't changed, one bit.” Quackity said with a sigh, looking at his former husband with disgust. Everyone in the room was bantering but Quackity nor Schlatt heard. The voices were drowned out when their eyes met. Schlatt had looked up at him when he finally spoke up and now they were seemingly having a staring contest. Neither looked mad though, in fact they both looked heart broken. Somewhere in Schlatts eyes he could have sworn he saw a hint of love. _He could have sworn he saw the old Schlatt, the warm brown eyes he used to look into and melt at the sight of. Not the stone cold ones that now belonged to the dictator._ The man took another swig, effectively breaking eye contact. 

“Schlatt-” Quackity tried to speak through the banter but was cut off by Wilbur stepping forward. He held his sword up to Schlatts neck and looked to Dream “Do you want me to end it?.” Quackity felt like he was going to vomit. He looked up to the normally sotic Technoblade that was standing at a higher point in the caravan. Even he had an eyebrow raised at his brother's sudden actions. _He was holding a sword to his ex best friends neck, he was holding a sword to his ex best friends neck and not blinking an eye._ “Well?” 

Before Will could go any further though, Schlatt was slumped on the floor. “Does anyone smell toast?” He took a sip of the liquor before freezing and dropping the bottle, his eyes went wide as he clamped a hand over his chest. Gasping for air. Wilbur took a step back and Quakcity rushed forward, dropping his shield. In his mind the ram dictator wasn't in front of him dying. The man he was in love with was in front of him dying. He kneeled next to him, tears pooling as he cupped a hand over the others cheek. 

“Quackity?”

Quackity nodded, willing the tears away. “Yeah it's me…” Schlatt smiled, he couldn't tell if it was genuine or out of spite. “I didn't think you'd come back.” 

“I didn't ethier.” 

He closed his eyes, his chest stopped rising and falling. Quackitys blood ran cold. Then noise rang through the room. _Cheers_ rang through the room. Everyone was cheering, of course they were cheering, the goddamn wicked witch of the west was dead! Instead of cheering Quackity was sobbing, sobbing into the chest of the man he once loved. He was pulled away from the body by a pair of long arms, _Karl Jacobs’s arms._ He was then held by the boy, sushed as his back was rubbed gently by his hands in an attempt at comforting him. Everyone was looking, the room was silent, but he couldn't hold it back. Did no one think he'd be in pain?

… 

Exactly a week after Schlatts death the funeral was held. It was bittersweet for Q. One half of him was broken that he was gone, the other half was rejoicing. He felt guilty for the side that was happy, _a man was dead. A man was dead and he was happy._ Still a sense of freedom filled him, like literal weights had been taken off his shoulders. At the same time he felt like the weights had been moved to his ankles. Like he was at the bottom of a lake with twenty pound weights strapped to his feet. Unable to swim up and just forced to struggle as water slowly filled his lungs. As he slowly drowned, he was calling out for help but no one heard. No one paid attention. So he suffered alone, he drowned. 

A few attended the funeral alongside Quackity, Tubbo was there. His eyes were filled with tears but Q was quite sure that was directed at the recent loss of his adoptive brother. Wilbur didn't even have a headstone, let alone a funeral. Quackity wondered how no one but he and Tommy knew how far he was gone. He'd never forget the day Will brought his little brother and himself down to the button, and threatened to push it. Q and Tommy were lucky they talked him out of it that time. Turns out Phill didn't have the same luck. Techno was nowhere to be found ethier, after the explosions and withers he disappeared. Fucking trader. He was sure Tommy wasn't doing well ethier. Having one of his older brothers betray him and the other blow up the country they'd built together before begging their father to kill him. He was surprised Tommy wasn't at Tubbos' side but he didn't blame the kid for not wanting to be here.

Karl and Sapnap were at the funeral as well, hand in hand. Quackity noticed Karl throwing worried glaces his way occasionally that he tried his best to ignore. He didn't want sympathy for something no one even knew about. No one knew the absolute hell. No one knew anything that happened between them. The other girl at the funeral that he could’ve sworn he’d seen before. She was a sheep hybrid with long brown hair and wore a captains hat that read ‘ _captain Puffy’_ on it. Oh that’s right, Schlatt had a frame that had a picture of her and him in it that always sat on his nightstand. Once Quackity asked who it was and Schlatt simply responded, ‘ _family, I haven’t seen her in a long time…’_

Quackity assumed she was his sister, as she didn’t look nearly old enough to be his mother. So having never met her, but knowing she was family he decided to talk to her after the funeral. 

“Hi, Puffy is it?” The woman turned her head towards the boy, her eyes were bloodshot. Clearly she had been crying but she still forced a smile when she faced the boy. “Yes that’s me.” 

“Hi, sorry I already said that.” She let out a small chuckle, “it's alright duckling.” This caused Quackity to subconsciously flutter his wings, Puffys eyes shimmering in response.

“Oh you are a duck! I hadn’t noticed that just happens to be what I call people.” Quackity hummed in response, her upbeat demeanor making this a little easier.

“Wait, you must be Quackity then?” The boy raised his eyebrows, confused on how she knew his name when the two had never even met. “Yes?” 

“Oh, Schlatt had told me so much about you. That was till he stopped writing back.” 

“Stopped writing back?...” Quackity questioned further, never even aware that they wrote back and forth. “Yes, he and I, when I left to go out to sea, began writing letters to each other. Our way of letting the others know that we were ok. I remember he used to ramble on about you, he really had a special place in his heart for you. Then the both of you got married, I actually still have that letter from that day.” She pulled a tattered piece of paper from her coat pocket, before handing it to him. Q held it loosely in his hand, clearly confused. 

“I wanted you to have it. I know we’ve never met and it’s probably freaking you out that I know way more about you then you would’ve ever guessed. But I know after he got elected, after he stopped writing. He wasn’t himself anymore, he was becoming someone who none of us recognized, well except for me that is…” 

“Around this time I received another letter from a boy named ‘Tubbo’. He claimed to be Schlatts right hand man and he said that ‘Schlatt isn't himself anymore’. He said ‘he’d become a horrible president and a worse husband to his vice’, you. He said he’d begun drinking… And all I could think of, was he is becoming our father.” It was evident by the frequent pauses, deep breaths, broken words, and glossy eyes that she was holding back tears at this point. “The one man I despised most in this world…”

“Quackity, did he ever hit you?...” She had been avoiding eye contact but finally looked into his eyes when she hesitantly uttered the words. 

Quackitys entire body went stiff as he stared up at the woman. His blood ran cold, he wanted to run away. He wanted to break down into sobs and tell the virtual stranger about everything he’d been through. Though he didn’t want to ruin the poor woman’s views of her baby brother any further then he already had. He wanted to keep his mouth shut, to keep everything to himself and wallow in his own pain. He wanted the hole in his heart from the recent loss to be filled. He wanted to be held the way Schlatt used to hold him. He wanted the ache in his stomach that seemed to seep into his bones to fade. He wanted it all to end.

“Listen it was wonderful meeting you but I really should be going.” He said quickly, squeezing past her as tears burned desperately at his eyes. He had to get far away, no one could see him like this. Not again. 

“Wait I’m-“ Puffy tried calling out but was simply ignored as the boy kept trudging forward. He couldn’t face her. He couldn’t tell her that he was to blame for Schlatts second death. That he played such a big part in her brother dying. He couldn’t tell her that he was abusive. They had been in love at some point, that’s the Schlatt she needed to remember. He would be selfish to have her remember him any other way. 

Among his swarming mind he kept telling himself he _needed_ to go home. Where was home though? Pogtopia? No that wasn’t at all home. He thought about going to Sap and Karl’s house but remembered they were still at the memorial paying their respects - _not that anyone truly had respect left for the dictator-._ Even so they probably wouldn’t want him there anyway. He’d be a bother, an intruder to their peaceful home. A boy on the verge of a panic attack over something they didn’t even know about. Who would want him?

Soon enough he found himself standing in front of the newly abandoned White House. His hands were shaking and his vision was blurry but it was the only place he could match the name ‘home’ to. 

Was it still his home?

… 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh I had so many ideas for Quackity angst based on his and Schlatts relationship so here it is! It gets a lot worse from here folks so buckle up.
> 
> Tysm for taking the time to read! Comments are very very appreciated! Love you babes take care of yourself and drink some water! <333333


	2. Fragments Of You Still Remain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quackity struggles with the old memories that surround him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’m actually quite happy with the way this one turned out. It was also written all in one day so close updates! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Love you babes, take care <3333
> 
> Tw/ 
> 
> Violence  
> Blood  
> Mentions of abuse / flashbacks to abuse  
> Panic attack (?)  
> Alcohol / alcoholism
> 
> Drink some water and stay safe!

Quackity slowly unlocked the front door with the key he still had to the large house he used to reside in. He stepped inside the building that he hadn’t even been near in months with a small sigh. Dust had begun to settle in, just in the time he’d left the stench of alcohol had gotten prominently worse. Bottles were scattered, some broken some intact. There was a bottle of whiskey laying on its side on the rug, some had poured out and left a stain; but about a quarter of the liquid was still in the bottle. It was resting on its side so the scarce amount of alcohol didn’t quite reach the neck where it would have spilled from. 

Quackity picked the glass bottle up, cradling it in his hands before hesitantly lifting it to his lips. The brown liquid burned down his esophagus and sat heavily at the pit of his stomach. The taste lingered on his tongue making him want to puke out the everything he’d consumed that day. At the same time the familiar taste and scent was bringing him back. To a time that shouldn’t have felt so distant to him. He loosened his grip on the neck of the now empty bottle, causing it to fall against the carpet once more. 

The boy made his way up the stairs, looking at the pictures hanging on the wall on the way up as he walked. The first he passed was of him and Schlatt standing proud at the podium, a banner that read SCHLATT2020 hanging behind them as they both smiled brightly ( _and genuinely.)_ The second was their wedding portrait, they were looking into each other’s eyes. Both were smiling gently, Q had a light pink blush spread across his cheeks and it was barely visible in the shot that Schlatt was holding Quackitys hand. 

The next frame he passed was a picture of him, Schlatt, and Tubbo. It was taken before the festival, in front of the stage. Tubbo had a genuine bright smile, un-aware of what was to come and only proud of the event he’d put together. Quackity on the other hand had a forced smile, knowing they were planning Tubbos execution for the festival he’d planned ( _he’d planned his own goddamn death.)_ He was standing to the left of the boy, his hand on his shoulder since Tubbo was about the only person shorter than him. Schlatt was on Tubbos right, he also had a hand on Tubbos shoulder but instead of forcing a smile he looked out of it and had a lazy smirk. He’d most definitely been drinking that day.

In some way they looked like a fucked up family in this picture. Tubbo, the innocent child with eyes still full hope and just caught in the middle of something he never should’ve been. Completely oblivious that he would soon have all the childhood innocence and hope stomped out of him ( _or well, blew out of him.)_ Quackity looked like the parent that hadn’t completely given up on love but was an inch close enough. Faking a smile for the picture so they could have one more perfect family portrait. Then there was Schlatt, eyes glazed over as he stared into the camera. All happiness and care that used to cover his features completely diminished. 

The fourth and final picture he passed was Schlatt and him simply standing in front of the White House. Schlatts arm was around Q’s waist as they stood in front of the door. He vaguely remembered Fundy taking the picture as Niki shouted about getting a better angel. He also remembered this day being Schlatts last ‘good day’. He hadn’t been drinking, as this took place only about a week after the festival. He insisted they take a picture in front of the house because in his words, Q ‘looked too beautiful not to’. It was a big refresher for Quackity, a break from the sleepless nights and the pain ( _both physical and mental.)_

They were both smiling genuinely in this picture once more, similarly to the first picture on the wall. He remembered gaining a sense of hope back that he'd lost the first time Schlatt laid a hand on him and left a mark. That hope was soon lost though, as if it could’ve stayed. If Schlatt would’ve stayed sober maybe there would be more pictures on this wall. Maybe he’d still be alive and they’d still be together. Maybe Manburg could be a good country again with the amazing leadership abilities he knew Schlatt had possessed. Maybe they’d be sitting on the couch, Schlatts arms wrapped around Quackity as they both laughed their asses off about some corny movie.

Alas, only a few hours after that picture was taken the smell of whiskey and cigars filled the home again. He got angry again, and Quackity had bruises again. Q remembered breaking down into sobs that night, Schlatt was passed out from the alcohol and thankfully his little breakdown didn’t wake him up. It’s not that he wasn’t used to this, he was, but that little bit of hope and happiness that sparked in his heart had been smothered so quickly. That was the night he realized things were never going to get better. 

He pushed past the pictures and painful memories and reached the second floor. He arrived at the bathroom door and pushed it open gently, causing it to creek. He cringed at the noise preparing himself for the yelling that never came. Once he was in the bathroom he looked at the door, running his fingers over the cold broken lock. He looked down, seeing the dried blood stain that had never been cleaned. The image of the lock and the blood stain filled his head with memories of _how_ it got broken.

  
  


_(Quackity ran up the stairs, tears rushing from his eyes as angry footsteps sounded from behind him. He had to get away, he had to get away, he had to get away. He knew what would happen if he wasn’t fast enough, if he couldn’t get to the one room in the house that had a fucking lock._

_He reached the door and slammed it shut just as the man reached the top. He locked it quickly before standing with his back against it. The doorknob wiggled before the banging started. The door shook from the repetitive hits as Quackity slid down it, he knew his right wing was injured by the immense pain radiating from it. He looked down, horror filling his body when he realized there was a pool of blood forming around him. It was gushing from his wing and he tried his best to apply pressure but the awkward angle of it being on his back wouldn’t allow him. He knew he was losing too much blood, expecting a vain had been hit in his wing, but he didn’t know how to stop it._

_The door was going to open soon, if the lock didn’t break it would surely come off the hinges. He thought he was gonna die, bleed out from his wing and there was nothing he would do about it. He never got to say goodbye to his friends. He was gonna die the villain in everyone’s eyes, never proving his worth to anyone. The friends he had made probably wouldn’t miss him anyway, so what did it matter that he never bid them farewell. He was just Schlatts bitch in everyone’s eyes, nothing more._

_‘Fucking let me in right now! I’m not joking, Quackity.’ A sob ripped from Quackitys throat at the yelling, his body shook as he began screaming. ‘Leave me alone! Just leave me alone please. Leave! Fucking leave I can’t take this!’_

_‘Open the goddamn door!’_

_Quackity was letting out a mix of incoherent sobs and screams now, screaming for him to leave him alone, and ‘no’ over and over again. Eventually the lock did break though, even with Quackity using his full body weight against the door to try to keep it shut, it was no use. )_

  
  


Quackity blinked as tears fell off his dark eyelashes, he sniffed ripping himself from the horrid memory. He couldn’t call it flashbacks, people with trauma and PTSD had flashbacks. He wasn’t any of those things, he didn’t have any of those things. He was fine. His fingers ghosted over the scar on his right wing, feeling as if the wound was still an open one now. He opted for leaving the bathroom, deciding he couldn’t take another one of these moments. 

He made his way to their old bedroom after that. He sat on the edge of the bed, running his hands over the soft navy sheets. The bedroom didn’t smell too badly of alcohol, more so Schlatts cologne. The sheets were oddly comforting to Quackity, sure they weren’t warm like they used to be but they still smelled the same, somehow not being tainted by the reak of whiskey. He knew the same couldn’t be said for Schlatts office. Even when they were together he avoided the room at all costs. It was always the worst of the house. 

He remembered the letter that he’d stuck in his pocket and pulled it out with shaky fingers. He slowly unfolded it, sighing as the familiar handwriting filled his field of vision. He hesitated for a minute considering folding it back up and never reading it, but he couldn’t bring himself to. So instead he just began reading. 

  
  


_Dear Puffy,_

_Hey sis! You would not believe how fucking happy I am right now. Today was Quackity and I’s wedding day. I told you that he proposed to me about a month ago, and I can’t believe he hasn’t already grown tired of me. All jokes aside though, I feel like the luckiest man alive right now. He wore a beautiful white gown, it started as a joke but I was in awe of how stunning he was. The ceremony was around an hour long and I couldn’t have wished for better. I really wish you could’ve been there, I know you would love Quackity If you met him. You could use the nick-name duckling and it actually make sense haha._

_I can't wait to see you again, it feels like it’s been an eternity. I know I already said this but once you're back, I can’t wait to introduce you to Q. I know he’ll love you. He really is the love of my life Puff, I can’t wait to spend my forever with him. I know not many like me here because I won the election against their savior Wilbur but I promise I’m gonna be a good leader. Plus who cares if no one likes me, I have Q by my side and that’s all that matters, the light of my life. Plus there’s Tubbo, I look at him like a son. He’s a great kid and I know he’s gonna do amazing things one day._

_I can't explain how happy I am to finally know what true love is. I know he and I are gonna do great things together. Bonnie and Clyde maybe? Until your back though, I can only attempt to put in words these feelings so you can know. I know it'll be ten times better once you can see it for yourself. Love you puffy._

_-Your favorite little brother, Schlatt._

  
  


Quackitys heart was in the pit of his stomach now. His head swarmed and his heart ached to feel that kind of love from the man again. He didn’t think anyone else knew the two had a true love, but apparently Schlatt had cared enough to rant on about him to his big sister who was across the sea. His bones ached, knowing he’d never experience a love like that again. As he had his one true love, he’d got to experience that already and he would never get it once more. It was selfish of him to want a round two. A second chance at love. No one gets it twice, everyone has one true love. So why would he be any different. Just because it ended bad doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. It doesn’t mean it wasn’t good at some point. This letter was proof of that. 

He scooted up on the bed, the letter still cradled carefully in his hand. He laid his head gently on this old pillow, his arm was next to him holding the paper by his head. He was laid on his side and closed his eyes gently. He was tired, so fucking tired and he simply wanted to rest his eyes. That’s all, he wouldn’t even fall asleep, just lay there for a bit and get some rest. 

… 

To his surprise, he was awakened by the sound of the front door opening. He hadn’t meant to dose off but he looked to the window and saw that the sun had gone down, it was now dark. The fog of sleep cleared his mind and he bagan panicking. The door opened, automatically he thought _‘Schlatts home’._ Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew this was impossible, that the man was long dead. The other side of his mind took over though, and told him he was in danger. 

He started panicking, he was so dead. Whenever Schlatt came home late he was extra mad. He was so dead, he was so damn dead. He jolted up quickly when footsteps began to sound up the stairs. He quickly realized though, that there were two pairs of footsteps climbing the stairs. Panic filled his entire body now, who else was here? His breathing quickened and tears unwillingly burned at his eyes as the footsteps reached the bedroom door. A light knock came before a gentle voice rang out. 

“Big Q?” Confusion replaced the panic. Quackity quickly wiped any wetness from his eyes as he realized the voice belonged to Karl. Not Schlatt. He willed his breathing to slow down as he responded with a far too shaky of a voice. “Uh, yeah?...” He hated the way his voice sounded, it was so obvious he wasn’t doing well.

“Can we come in?” _We._ Can _we_ come in. Sapnap had to be with him. Great they were gonna see him like this and Sap was never going to stop making fun of him over it. “Yeah.” He wanted to slap himself. He should’ve said no, told them to leave so that he could go back to sleep and deal with the nightmares. At the same time he was great full he would no longer be alone, he wouldn’t have to deal with the horrid flashbacks and pain by himself. 

Seconds later the doorknob was turned and Karl, wearing a brightly colored turtle neck stood. He slinked in, Sap trailing behind and keeping his gaze on the floor. They both looked at the boy. He was sitting on the bed, his knees not quite at his chest but still pulled up. He was sitting up, arms rested on his legs. His cheeks were flushed red and it was obvious he had just been quite upset. His hair was disheveled, even if most of it was hidden by his hat that was still planted on. 

Both of them looked at him with sympathy. Quackity avoided their gazes though, the sympathetic looks burned holes in his skin and made him want to scream. He didn’t know why, they weren’t doing anything but being good friends. He still hated the feeling though, and wanted nothing more than to curl in on himself. They were both standing right infront of him though, and he couldn’t do such a thing. So instead he looked up at them forcing a small smile, “Whatcha’ guys need?” 

Karl opted to speak up, “we saw you split from the funeral and got worried.” _Karl got worried’_ Quackity corrected in his head, knowing Sap didn’t give a shit about him. 

“Oh, I’m fine you don’t have to be worried.” 

“Well we couldn’t find you for a few hours. We looked at Pogtopia, and a few other places before coming here. It’s about eleven pm now.” ‘ _So that’s how long I’ve slept’_ Q interjected in his mind again. 

“Well I’m sorry for worrying you guys, I was just tired after service and wanted a place to lay down.” 

Sap and Karl exchanged a worried glance that made Quackitys stomach twist. He hated the feeling that they were having a wordless conversation between themselves about them. Let alone the fact that it was definitely a worried one. “And you came, _here?”_ Quackity paused, his stomach doing backflips, before nodding. 

“Hey Q, we were wondering. Since you probably don’t want to stay in the caverns of Pogtopia and most of Man- or I guess L’manburg again, was blown up including all the houses, and you probably don’t wanna stay here-'' Sapnap gave Karl a look that said ‘ _get to the point’._

Karl sighed before continuing, “anyway, what I’m getting at. Would you like to stay with us? At least for now until you get back on your feet?” ‘ _Get back on your feet’_ ran through Quackitys mind, they thought he couldn’t handle himself and needed help. They thought he was weak and couldn’t take care of his own problems. Quackity shook his head, gaining back his false smile. “No, I don’t mind staying here. Once Tubbo starts reconstruction on L’manburg I’m gonna build a new house there again.” 

“Well I think that’s everyone’s plan Q, but you shouldn’t have to stay here in the meantime and we have a place outside of L’manburg that wasn’t destroyed.” Quackity tried his best not to scowl, he didn’t need help, he didn’t need their fucking help. 

“Guys seriously it’s ok, I have a place here and-“ 

“Quackity.” Sapnap spoke for the first time since they’d been there, cutting Quackity off. His tone was stern yet soft and it sent a chill down the boys spine. “You can’t stay here, you and I both know it’s not healthy. Just stay with us until you can get a new house set up in L’manburg.” Karl shot Sap a glare for the use of the harsher tone, but his face was filled with relief when Quackity finally gave in. “Fine, I will.” Karl’s shoulders visibly relaxed as he heard the boy's words. 

“Thank you Q, we have a guest room we can all go get set up for you right now.” Karl reached his hand out to help Quackity up, which he gladly accepted. He felt a bit safer now, in the presence of both the men. Who knows, maybe it would be better for him to stay with them instead of being alone.

… 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Chapter three will be out soon. 
> 
> Comments are very very appreciated! 
> 
> Love you babes, tysm for taking the time to read! <3333

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhhh I had so many ideas for Quackity angst based on his and Schlatts relationship so here it is! It gets a lot worse from here folks so buckle up. 
> 
> Tysm for taking the time to read! Comments are very very appreciated! Love you babes take care of yourself and drink some water! <333333


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